


Strike Gets Lucky

by StrikeRulz



Category: RPF--Lightning Strike
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Spying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 19:21:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3499955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrikeRulz/pseuds/StrikeRulz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strike meets a new 'friend'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strike Gets Lucky

Strike walked into the old gym with gloves already slung over his beefy shoulders. He took his time walking around, deciding if he wanted to stay or leave. No one took any particular notice of him.

He liked the atmosphere, the sights and sounds. The smell of other men exerting themselves. It was comfortable and comforting.

He decided he like it. Dropping his rucksack next to a ring, he started taping his fists. His hands ached from some particularly hard-headed jackasses the night before, but it was the ache of the righteous. He flexed his knuckles to stretch the tape into the proper shape.

His gloves on, Strike made his way into the ring. Then he stretched for a few moments. Hams, lats. He started hopping as if he had a jump rope. Sweat started to bead on his forehead.

A few people started to gather around the ring to watch the new guy and assess his physique. When Strike was finished warming up, he had several volunteers to spar with.

The first guy wasn't as tall as Strike, but he was just as thick. He had already been sparring or something because he was covered in drops of perspiration. They rolled down his ebony arms and chest, disrupted only the the light movement of the man as he and Strike danced around each other, feinting and dodging.

For the next hour, Strike met three different opponents, each differently sized and skilled. He sharpened his reflexes as well as increased his speed.

He showered and changed at the gym before slinging the sack back over his shoulders. As he emerged from the darkened space into the sunlight, he pulled out his sunglasses and settled them across his nose.

Unbeknownst to Strike, he was being watched. From a distance, a lens reflected the sunlight. The lithe body shifted position from fatigue but never lost sight of her quarry.

The Boss would be pleased, she thought.

\-------------

As she packed up her disassembled rifle, she began to wonder about this guy the Boss had her following? What was the big deal? He looked like just your average meat-head. Pumped up beyond the ability to even straighten his own arms. She rolled her eyes. She had seen so many like that in her time.

They had come and gone. She was still around.

As she slid into the driver's seat of her Corvette, she donned sunglasses and started the powerful engine. She felt the purr of it vibrate up through the seat and into her body. She held her breath and her lower lip for a moment, enjoying the sensation. Then she refocussed, threw the car into gear, and sped away.

She kept herself near the speed limit to avoid attracting more attention that she already did in her sleek red car with her beautiful raven hair. But her mind couldn't be kept at a minimum speed. It raced on ahead of her as well as back to the man she had been watching.

She had been given little direction and background info on the guy. But she had accomplished her objectives. Perhaps that would lead to more illumination in the coming days.

The parking garage loomed before her. She pulled up to the gate and honked the horn. Reggie leaned out of the booth, she raised her eyebrows at him, and he gave her a shy little wave. He hit the button to lift the gate and she sped through. Reggie watched her car until he couldn't see or hear it anymore.

Gathering her case and purse, she entered the private elevator. She pressed the button for the penthouse suite and waited for the lift to take her upward. She suspected something was amiss before she alit from her ride.

Drawing her handgun, she set the case down in the entryway.

"Boss?" she called. "You here?"

A voice she didn't recognize answered her.

"He's tied up at the moment."

She spun and trained her weapon on the very chest she had been watching across town. How did he beat me here, she wondered.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"You know who I am. You were watching me."

Damn.

"What do you want?" she tried.

"I could ask you the same thing," he growled.

She smirked. "Hey, I'm on a need-to-know basis. All I needed to know was where you were and what I was supposed to do."

"Just the muscle, huh? Just take orders and do what you're told?" There was a large amount of disdain in his voice.

"You got it, big guy." She smiled at him wickedly, keeping her gun between the two of them.

"Well, then I guess I'll have to get my answers out of the Boss then, huh?" he said.

She shrugged. "Suits me. Like you said, I'm just the hired help. I can find a new 'situation' if need be," she replied.

Strike looked her up and down. "What's your name?"

"What do you want it to be?" she tossed back.

He growled again, a deep-throated, threatening sound.

"Liza. Liza Black, muscle for hire." It was the truth mostly. That was her professional name.

Strike just grunted.

"Well, as lovely as it has been, I'm going to have to ask you to leave now," she said, motioning toward the elevator with her gun as she sidled away from it.

Strike took his time casually walking toward the lift. He punched the button and waited without looking at her. When the bell sounded and the doors opened, he continued his casual pace into the small space that he made look even smaller.

He turned to punch another button and look her in the eye one last time.

"Until next time," he said and gave her a mock two-fingered salute. Liza kept the gun aimed dead center.

She kept watch until the elevator reached the ground level. Then she made her way deeper into the penthouse to find her Boss.


End file.
